


Foreign

by lemonheadlester



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Memory Loss, Strangers to Lovers, Temporary Amnesia, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-02 06:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonheadlester/pseuds/lemonheadlester
Summary: The year is 3018.Things have changed on earth over the past years. The population has been cut in half, cities are destroyed, nations have fallen. The world will never be the same.Phil is a soldier with a lot of pressure on his back, and Dan is a random guy with amnesia who fell into Phil's life.





	1. waking up

**Dan**

Pain. That's all I feel when I open my eyes.

I gasp as soon as the light shines into my sensitive pupils, shutting my lashes immediately and groaning in frustration.

Everything is burning. I can't tell where my limbs are, they're numb. Everything is burning.

Pain surges through me as I try to move. It's fading quickly, but not quickly enough. I feel as if I'm on fire, my skin sizzling under the blazing sun only making this worse. I could have sunburn depending on how long I've been here.

My fingers twitch when I dig them into the ground, a ground of what feels like sand. My digits sink right in, relief surging through them when they travel deeper where the sand is cooler. I do the same with my toes, feeling the particles falling in between each stub and cooling off the exposed skin.

Why am I not wearing shoes?

I lift my head to forcefully avert my eyes away from the sun, groaning when I feel a cramp in my neck. Nonetheless, I manage to adjust my eyes to the light and study my slightly mangled form.

I'm buried in rubble, which means I might've been in some kind of explosion. I wonder what miracle kept me alive. I realise then that I don't remember exactly what happened, but my mind is more focused on finding shelter from the heat.

My clothes are torn and singed at the edges, but my skin seems to be free of damage other than a few scratches and bruises. As far as I can see, I'm not dying. I must have been smart enough to find cover, otherwise I'd be dead.

I pull my hands from the sand and wince as I push away the scraps of wood and concrete, using all of my strength to roll over on my side. I take note of where I must have been, the basement of a seemingly small home, now torn to shreds.

I cough a few times when I accidentally breathe in ash. The sudden jumps in my chest send shocks of electricity through my nerves, causing my limbs to leap in response. All sudden movements are reminding me of how much pain I'm in.

As of now, I assume it's my fight or flight sense that are masking most of my pain. Especially when my hand travels to my head and I feel the obvious wound in my head, tracing the several trails of dried blood, I know I need to get up and find help. I can't stay here and wait for another miracle.

As much as it already hurts, I force myself to my hands and knees, the exposed sand burning me, but not enough to stop me.

It's painful, the first few movements are the worst. I flatten my hands against the sand, grimacing at the pain. If anything, it's enough to speed my movements and vet my hands off the ground faster.

Once I'm finally to my feet, I feel wobbly. I see that my surroundings are desolate, aside from the rest of this destroyed town. this rubble being the only thing for miles and miles of sand and dirt roads over the mountains, greens, browns, and yelllows make up the parched ground, like it hasn't had any rain in a long time. It looks like a drought.

I assume I'm in the middle of nowhere it seems, and I know this heat is doing nothing to help my case. I wonder how people ever lived here.

I observe the area for a bit, noticing how this really must have been a house that was destroyed. It was a small one, judging my what's still standing it was a house of some kind.

The are several destroyed houses. Some of the damages seems more fresh than the rest, telling me that this definitely was not a one time occurrence. One thing is for sure, I don't want to run I to any dead bodies. This whole town was obliterated.

A town in the middle of a mountainous desert of some kind? Something is definitely weird here. I don't recall the name of it, nor do I remember anything about this place. Maybe I was taken here and that's how I survived. Maybe I took myself here, by that makes so sense as my wounds were aligned with the rubble that buried me, almost to my grave.

I decide it's best to stop thinking, knowing answers won't come by just standing under the sun, probably getting sunburned.

I start to walk, appreciating the fact that my limp is barely painful. I can still travel, which might save my life, as there seems to be no life for miles.

I have no idea where to go, everything looks the same. It's overwhelming, not knowing where I am or how I got here. I don't know what to do.

All I can do is walk, so I do.

My head is aching and sweat is pouring down my face. There's nothing here I can use to shield me from the sun, so I just have to suck it up and take it.

I try to clear my head and remember anything from the incident, anything at all that may help me, but my mind is drawing a blank.

Too much of a blank for my liking.

I can't put my finger on it, but I'm missing something here. Something significant.

I sigh and shrug it off, assuming it will come to me eventually, whatever it is. I continue to dig my toes into the dirt as I walk, craving that cool sensation with every agonising step I take. I have to find something soon, right?

After several minutes, I start to get frustrated. The obliviousness I feel, the growing pain, the fear of the unknown. It's too much for my naïve mind. I'm in serious trouble and I don't know how or why, and I still can't figure out what is hiding in the back of my mind.

A blur of colour snaps me out of my thoughts. Black to be specific. A surprise among all of this white and grey. The sky isn't even blue, it's grey.

I wonder if it's a thick fog or my eyes deceiving me, but it took me until now to realize that the sky is in fact, grey.

It isn't even clouds, it's just a sky. A desaturated sky, which is unsettling to say the least. Everything seems dull, not monochrome, but lacking brightness, liveliness.

I focus my attention back to the black speck in the distance, and I find myself running. Despite my body screaming at me to slow down, I sprint towards the hope in the distance.

As I get closer I can see more clearly. It's a vehicle of some kind, I truck to be specific once my vision settles even more. I stop, looking for people, but I see none. I wonder if it's mine. I don't recognize, so either it's not or my memory is really fucked up.

There was nothing on my person when I woke up, and I'm not sure if I know how to hotwire vehicles or not. I could try if I had any energy left.

Maybe it's someone else's and they will return soon. I see footsteps in the sandy road, quickly deteriorating from the wind. I shield my eyes when a gust of wind swirls the sand around me.

After the dust settles I'm running again, and once I get there all I want to do is collapse.

Once I hesitantly pull the door open, my hand burn from the contact. This has been here for a while, baking under the sun. However, the shade will be a relief that makes everything worth it.

Bending over is a pain, and crawling over the seats is worse, especially when my hand makes contact with the metal of a seatbelt. I yelp is surprise but I don't stop until I'm fully inside, sprawled out across the passenger seat.

I look across to my right where the drivers side is, noticing that keys are nowhere to be seen. I had none on my person when I woke, so I assume they were either stolen or this doesn't belong to me.

I shrug it off, just glad that I've found this. Hopefully the owner is kind enough to offer some help when they return.

So what do I do? I lay down.

I crawl into the backseat, I turn on my side, and I close my eyes.

~~~

_I can't see much. Aside from staring at my own two hands, all I see is a black void, but I can hear something._

_I can't make out the words, but someone is speaking. They seem distressed. They're shouting, shouting, but it's distorted, broken, almost like a radio._

_Then there's nothing, just silence._

_I look up, frantically looking around, unsure of what this dream means. Then, in a flash if light, I see a familiar sight._

_That same rubble I just climbed out of._

_It's foggy and I can't see what's happening, but I assume that this has to be a memory, or a compilation of them._

_Because whatever happened to me, it can't be good._

_It seems the entire destroyed town is now in my dream, right before my eyes, where I can see in much more detail now that I'm recalling everything, no longer in a state of shock._

_I wonder what chaos I was caught in the middle of. I really hope there weren't any casualties, but from what I could see, it was likely._

_Then the image from my mind start to fade, and just like that, it's gone._

_~~~_

I sit up quickly, distraught by what I'm remembering. I wonder what had happened for that town to be destroyed. Were there any other survivors? Did I have anything to do with this chaos?

It did me not good not contemplate the endless possibilities. From sitting up, I'm met with a headache and the the dawning sun. Maybe I can figure out how to steal this car, if the owner doesn't return within the day.

I decide the best thing for me to do would be to search for people while I still have early morning to spare. Before it gets too hot again, which it undoubtedly will, I need to get my bearings straight. I don't know what I'll find out there, I'm not sure what to expect at this point.

I shove the door open, stepping out and feeling the weight on my legs Hurst just a little less today. Optimistic, I climb over the side of the truck to where random supplies are kept in the back. Turning over a few boxes and searching under some tarps, I finally locate a small barrel full of bottled waters. There's warm, very warm, but it's better than being dehydrated. I take one and gulp done the entire thing, taking another one to keep with me as I head out.

I stick to the road, looking for signs, other vehicles, or maybe even people. I don't know how long it will go, nor do I have any ides what elevation I'm at, because judging my the popping in my ears, it's pretty high.

The air is dry and wind is nonexistent. A breeze would be a relief, but I wouldn't have seen any coming for long time with the state this climate was in.

Where the hell am I?

After about five minutes of travel, I decide I have to head back to avoid getting lost. That truck is my only shelter, and if I lose that I'm screwed.

When I make it back, I toss my empty bottle in the back, not caring to litter. With the sun rising and the heat growing, I feel the sweat starting to drip down my face. I can continue my travel endeavours in the evening when it's cooler, maybe take the road the opposite direction, which was back towards the town where I'd be more likely to come across something, anything. But now, the heat is already too intense.

I lean against the truck, sighing as my stomach grumbles. I hadn't even considered hunger until now. I'll need good soon, but where the hell would I find any out here?

Am I going to die here?

I'm about to open the door again to get back in, away from the sun, when I hear footsteps, leaves crunching. Alarmed, and slightly relived realising those were coming from a person, I turned my head towards the noise.

It's coming from the bushes. I wonder if there was another road I hadn't seen? It doesn't matter anymore, because someone is making their way back here. Maybe it's the owner if the vehicle, or another survivor. Either way, I walk slowly towards the bushes, anticipation growing in my chest.

I never really get a good look at the person. All I could make out was the they were tall and strong, strong enough to grab me and shove me against the closed door of the truck, causing me to lose my air, gasping.

When my vision settles I look up, instinctively struggling against the person's gold until they press a cold gun against my face, and I stop moving entirely, gulping in fear.

This person was a man, around my age assumably. The look on his face surprisingly did not resembles manager, but remorse, confusion, and question. Nonetheless, his gaze pierced right through me, sending shivers down my spine. As terrified as I was, I couldn't stop staring at him. His eyes were the brightest colours I'd seen since I woke.

Flickering my gaze to study him further I saw he was in a uniform. I didn't understand how, with how hot it was, but he didn't seem bothered by it. It was greyish colour with tints of navy blue, stripes of silver down in diagonals across the chest and the letter 'M' plastered ti the left of it.

The uniform was military like, resembling something professional, nothing ti be messed with. I realise that this guy could just kill me right here if he wanted to, but something, I'm not sure what, told me that he wouldn't. He was more endearing than anything else.

"Who are you?" He interrogated, his voice deep, stunning, a smooth, flat tone. His accent is soft, juxtaposed against the threatening feeling. I'm not even sure what to feel listening to him. I'm almost too shocked to answer.

"Answer me." He pushed, shoving the gun under my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"I-I'm, I" I stammer unsure of what to say.

Because with that question, something else feel into place. The reason I've felt so oblivious, too unsure.

I have no idea who I am.

I have no memory if anything before waking up.

How have I not realised with until now? That should have been the first thing I noticed, but it took me until now? How did this even happen? What happened to  _me_?

"What's your deal, man?" He spoke again, snapping me back into reality and away from my vacant mind.

"I, I don't know." I stuttered again, just sticking to the truth. There's no use in lying here, when I genuinely have no ides who I am or what's going on.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He questioned. "Do you not have a name?"

A name.  _A name._ What's my name? I search my limited brain for one, any name that sounded familiar.

Then I remember.

 _"Dan."_  I blurt. "My name's Dan."

The grip on my collar loosens and the gun is lowered easy from me. He outs it back in his belt, still glaring at me with uncertainty.

It baffles me how I didn't flinch, how my first thought was to fight back. Even though he wasn't planning in killing me, he could've. Did I instinctively know this? Do I know him? Does he know me?

By they was he's looking at me he obviously has no ides who I am, but maybe he might know someone who does.

"You seem unsure, mate." He observes, twisting his lips unconsciously, like it was a habit. He seems uncertain of what to make of me.

"I'm not sure about anything, really." I chuckle. "I have no memory of anything."

"Anything at all?"

"I'm serious. Nothing."

He stares at me fir about another minute.

"Where did you come from?" He asks, slightly less forcibly.

"All I remember is waking up in a destroyed town." I point in the direction. "I found this up here and rested because it was the only thing I could find. I don't where I am or where I'm from or how I even ended up here."

He nods, connection the dots as he let's out a little "ahh" of realisation.

"Seems you have amnesia." He concludes, gaze softening and voice mellowing. "It would make sense if you were caught in that attack."

"Attack?" I repeat. "What the hell happened here?"

He pauses. His features full of what is unmistakably regret, he turns away. I immediately want to take back the question, uncaring to why I care about the feeling of the person who threatened me just moments before.

I don't blame him, this truck obviously belongs to him and he was protecting himself.

"I'll tell you what, kid." He sighs. "You have nowhere to go, and you're most likely the only survivor from that town. I just came from there and I couldn't fund anyone else. I'll tell you what's going in and take you back to my town, and we can take care of you until you get your memory back, cool?"

All I can really do is nod. I can't really do anything except agree. Curiosity and relief washes over me simultaneously. I want to know what's going on, and this guy has the answers.

"Wait." I yelp. "What's your name?"

He gestures for me to climb into the passenger seat. He smiles, holding his hand out for ms to shake.

"Phil."

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr @lemonheadlester


	2. scorched faces

**Phil**

I was stunned in a long term way, the attack only having happened about a day ago.

I was left behind to clean up the mess we made, to cover up the 'near failure' of a mission, as some people on my team would rather put it. In my words, it was a failure. Period. The innocent people of that town died because of us, because of a mistake made by me.

And if it come's back to bite us in the ass, I take the blame for everything. That's one of the realities of being a commander. It comes along with many other stressful things, but none of it equates to the pain of being responsible for deaths of hundreds.

None of it was supposed to happen this way. It should have been a subtle assassination of our worst enemy's top spy. Thinking about it that way now, it was never going to be easy.

All we knew was that he went by the maricat. To protect his real identity, no one ever sees him. No one knows his real name or what he looks like, and no one can get to him. That's why we jumped on the opportunity to find him as soon as we found out he'd be here.

It took decades of us being at war with this town, and they've always won. No one has ever come close to them ever before, and it was unbelievable that it would be this easy.

But it almost was.

Once we realised the place was full of people, I wanted to give it up. There's no way this one spy was worth so many lives, and it certainly wont be anything worth celebrating. Even with one spy gone, more will come. That's what Maricatia is known for, the town of the spies.

We've always been at war with them for as long as I can remember, so even with something this significant, nothing will change. I joined the army partly due to pressure from peers, but also because I thought I could help fix this endless state of chaos we were in. However, I quickly learned that would never be the case. I may be in charge of a small team of soldiers, but I will never have a say in anything. Getting rid of Maricatia's best spy would only piss them off, and they would send more spies. I knew this. But did anyone listen?

No, they never do. I'm just a face for my town's public, and I will never be seen as anyone other than hero, when in reality all I am is a killer.

I've killed people personally before, and it never gets any easier. Both in self defense and in cold blood, it's all awful. I regret my decision to join the army almost every day of my life, and I only still take this seriously because it's all I have left now. It's all I'll ever be good for.

When we began to discuss exactly how we would complete our mission, I made my hesitation clear. I did not want to cause any more violence than necessary, nor did I want to agree to the destruction of an entire town. Just watching unsuspecting people pass by was unsettling enough. A little girl caught my eye, couldn't be older than ten. She seemed so happy, and all I could do was hold back the urge to whisper to her and tell her to run away with her family, get away from here. I wanted to say that to the whole town, but I couldn't.

Because any one of them could be the maricat.

I couldn't do much of anything really. I watched as my team set up several explosives discreetly in different areas of the town. With a population of a couple hundred, it was still small enough to traverse in an about an hour.

"We should be more careful about this." I tried to negotiate. "We have to locate the maricat exactly and at least have some sort of profile on him before we just assume he's here and kill these people."

"Not enough time." My second chair, Ollie, pointed out. "By the time we figure that out, which is a long shot in itself, maricat will already be gone. He doesn't stay in one place for more than a day."

I knew Ollie was right. He's smart, and is more of my co commander than anything else. He definitely handles guilt better than I ever could, and he's probably the only friend I've ever had. Even though he knew I desperately did not want to go through with this, we had no other choice.

"I can't authorize a mass murder in cold blood. You know this." I sigh, mostly addressing Ollie rather than the rest of the group. It makes me feel less pressure, less like I'm giving a speech of some kind.

"Well you don't have to." He suggests. "We'll play it off like a mistake, where only one bomb was supposed to detonate but then the rest were accidentally triggered from a mistake in proximity."

"You think that'll fly with the chief?" I questions, unsure.

"If you tell him we took out the maricat himself, yes I think he'll look past it."

"That doesn't make it right."

I shuffle a little to the side of the room, away from the others. Ollie looks me in the eye, up enough to let his gaze reach my height with just the right amount of glare and remorse.

"In all due respect commander," He addresses me. "This is happening whether you like it or not. We have one chance to take out the maricat. yes, this amount of deaths sin't right, but it's a sacrifice that has to be made, to taking one step closer to the end of this war."

Ollie leaves with the rest of the group. I know he's not mad, he never is. He's the optimistic one out of us, the only one who still believes the war could come to an end. The rest of us will always have our doubts.

I do worry about confronting our chief, Chris. He's in charge of the commanders, so after everything is over I'm the one who will have to report to him. He's hard on everyone, but when it came to me, he was always trying to 'toughen me up'. He could see the soft spot that everyone who considered me the best soldier out there could not. He knew my weakness, and he will find any reason to point it out, to put me down. I'm sure he's even take any chance he got to throw me out of the army, if it weren't for the other commanders opposing that idea.

 _I don't understand how you manage it, Lester._ He would remind me frequently.  _If you don't want to kill people then why do you still do it? Are you trying to prove yourself or something?_

I've trained my ears to ignore these comments over the years. As much as they hurt, I know that he has to be strict to do his job, even if that means targeting me.

The past five years to be exact, I have really come to see the state of our society, or lack thereof, in a different light. The way the world is, that won't change for a long time. We're stuck like this, and if the wars never end, we may never build this world back up to what history suggests it once was.

I've only ever heard stories about the technology, the beautiful countries and cities, landmarks that are now all dust. This world was once a thing of beauty, and that beauty vanished long before I was born. This is what he have, this is all we're going to get. If humanity has this last chance to survive, we sure aren't using it. Maybe one day people will realise that the fighting accomplishes nothing.

It's better not to think about it. That way I'm less likely to dwell. I do my job better that way.

"Hey, you comin' or not?" one of the soldiers, Ash, snaps me away from my thoughts, my nightmares, or daymares rather, of the things Chris will tell me when we return. I turn quickly towards the doorways to see Ash crossing his arms impatiently. "We ain't got all day, bud."

I walk straight past him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Ash was always the one who knew how to push my buttons, knowing that I wouldn't say anything about it. Even if I was his superior, he knew I wouldn't stand up for myself, he knows that I know, it would be weak.

I shake my head, drawing my gun out and leading the way behind buildings and around areas devoid of civilians. Our uniforms give away exactly who we are, but the maricat doesn't know we're here. Not yet, at lest, As soon as we ditched our coats, which were unbearable in the heat, we made sure to be seen by no one, as anyone walking around could be our target.

I don't want to end this person's life, but like everything else I do, I don't have much of a choice. We live in a kill or be killed world, and as meaningless as any of this is, I try to keep going, for the sake of those unlike me who still care.

Ash keeps watch behind us as Ollie and I take the lead, quickly making our way to the small citrus orchard where we left the trigger. I felt dizzy, knowing everything here was about to be demolished, every life, gone. I can't think about it, not now, not ever. I just have to do it.

So when the rest of the team gets a head start, I'm there alone, edge of the border, gun in hand, dirt path leading to our camp behind me. I take one more step back. not daring to let my eyes move past the field to see the civilisation, I point my gun. Painting the target into my brain, I close my eyes and pull the trigger, letting my hands take over, clearing my head, a shaky breath is muted by the sound and the momentum of the gun that still send me back after years of shooting. I hear beeping.

And then I have ten seconds to run.

Ducking under the fence we broke in through, I lose my breath. I feel a tug when the metal catches the fabric of my uniform, holding me back. I'm still counting in my head. That's what I was trained to do.

I free myself quickly, lungs tight in anticipation knowing I lost about three seconds of time there. If we were correct about the blast radius and the maximum time it will take me to run up this hill, all I have to do is make it to the bushes where we found our shortcut and I'll be fine, I wont die, The blast will just-

_Boom_

I don't even hear it, nor do I get to finish my thought. I dive for the bushes face forward as it goes off with my hands clutching the back of my neck. I tense as I hit the ground, ringing penetrating my ears as I try to steady my breathing and slow my heartbeat. I'm alive.

But everyone in that town is dead.

I manage to turn over and sit up, feeling the ground under my hands as I watch fire and smoke emerge from the may building, ones I never really stopped to appreciate. The people who built them who never saw what hit them, all ashes now. The guilt begins to pool in my stomach, aching.

"Sir, sir are you okay?" I hear someone, I can't make out who, calling to me. I let them help me stand , keeping my eyes focused on the burning village.

"Phil, what the hell happened!?" I hear Ollie's voice of concern. my eyes are glued past him. "You could have died!"

Ollie stands in front of me and the soldier helping me to me feet, eyes wide now that I can see. I take a deep breath and process everything that happened in the last ten, fifteen seconds now.

"My trouser leg got caught on the fucking fence." I mumble, turning the opposite direction and brushing the dirt from my clothes. "C'mon, we have to meet up with the others."

It takes about ten minutes for the few of us to make our way through the bushes and back to the camp out where the team monitoring the maricat's whereabouts was posted.

"Did we get him?" Ollie asked them.

They looked up, grinning practically from ear to ear.

It's funny how different people will have drastically different attitudes towards the same thing.

"We got him."

Some people cheered, others smiled. Me, I just exchanged a glace with Ollie.

"The tracker one of our soldiers shot him with was in an empty home when the blast went off." They informed us. Another jumped in. "That's probably where he was hiding,"

"Another spy gone." The third one chimed. "Well done everyone."

I see Ash smirking from the corner of my eye as he sees me, off to the side staring off the side of the mountain cliff and into the distance, the sun on the horizon.

"We just took out another spy. It seems to me Maricatia has grown significantly weaker. Maybe soon we'll defeat them, and our competition will be gone forever." He rambles, knowing how much his comments annoy me.

 _Keep telling yourself that._  I say inside my head, yet keeping my features level.

"Still a long way to go." I remind him. "Many powerful spies are still out there, and it just takes one of them to infiltrate us. Just one spy will barely make a difference when this is the town of spies, and we've been fighting them for years."

He scoffs at my rational thinking. "I'd imaging you'd be happy, commander." He tells me. "Your team just took out one of the best spies."

I finally turn around, not caring to acknowledge the fact that he's very well mocking my weakness to taking human life. "Tell me how to defeat the other spies." I glare at him, moving to walk past him. "Then I'll be satisfied."

"You need to face your actions you know!" He calls after me, trying to get some kind of rise.

I just sigh and turn my head slightly so that he can hear me.

"It's not that I'm worried about facing." I tell him.

I stare back across the cliff again, feeling eyes on me.

"It's time to face the music."

~~~

Nineteen hundred hours on my watch, and I'm finally alone.

Night follows evening as I start to make my way back to the town, now that it's just barely smoking and all that is left is ash. Maybe I can find something, or maybe even a survivor.

Because the rest of the team has no idea, but I know Ollie disable the bombs in the outskirts. He wanted to save as many people as possible. I'll have to thank him later.

Once I get there, it's very clear that any survivors there might have been are fine now. Probably ran. I take a quick look around, avoiding any sight of bodies by all means.

Once I make my way back. The sky is pitch black. I decide I'll have to wait out the two days here to scout the area and make sure no one passes through looking for evidence of what happened. Maybe I'll still be able to find survivors.

So I leave my truck with some supplies and begin heading down the path, prepared to travel for a few hours.

And with the moon shining above, dim and obscured by dark clouds, I wish for the moon to be my only witness. No one saw me pull that trigger, and I will live with it forever, the fact that I'm the one who killed all those people.

The worst thing is, most people would praise me for that. They would look past all of it, because they've been brainwashed to believe that deaths for the sake of defeating our enemy mean nothing. They think it's okay, and that's what hurts the most. 

I can't even bear to look at that town anymore. They didn't deserve this. They were smart enough to never have engaged in any sort of war before, and this is what they get. 

This definitely is not the first time this has happened. It's very rare that any towns are allies, and it's an every man for himself situation. The citizens have no say in what the governments want, and that is to continue killing people. 

I remember when I was a child, asking my father innocently why The soldiers had a man down at his knees, pointing a gun to the back of his head.

"He's a spy, Philip." I heard him explaining to me. "He betrayed our town, and now these people have to protect us from people like him." 

My dad turned my head away from the scene before the shot sounded.

I couldn't really describe what I was feeling in that moment, even to this day, but I sure as hell never thought I would become one of those soldiers. I guess life comes at you pretty fast.

This, of course, was way back when we had an equal chance against the Maricatian spies. They were easier to find, to apprehend, and to kill. Both of our sides have grown stronger over the years, but today, they have an advantage over us. It's an advantage everyone else fails to see.  The spies have learned every inch of this town, and no matter how much we invest in security, or how many spies we kill, they just keep coming. We've estimated over twenty of them have made it past our borders and made it back with something of value annually, and this number is growing. Sometimes we catch them, but it's more rare than ever.

Do I want to protect the people I care about? Yes. Do I want to kill people? No. I wish I wasn't forced to make these choices. 

When it comes to what motivates me, it's usually Ollie. As professional as we are around other people, he's probably the closest friend I have. He's the only person I can trust these days. 

Of course I care about my unit, the soldiers on my team, but I find it hard to have faith in them, especially people like Chris and Ash. If anything were ever to happen to them, however, no one would get away with it. At the end of the day, this is my responsibility, everything I have in life.

When my father died, that's when I decided to enlist. When my mother found out, she told me she didn't raise a killer. She left town with my brother, now considered a person of exile, and in response to her betrayal, is never to be let back in.

I was told my Chris, who at this point was already my boss. He then told me something I'll never forget."

"You're family left you, Lester. This is all you have left."

And it is.

I dedicated everything to being the best of the best. If this was who I was, then there's no use in pretending. If I'm meant to take lives, I can't run from that. Even if I want to run, which I do sometimes, I'd have nowhere to go. I'd be a refugee, a coward, just like my mother was. 

I cried over it some night, but other nights I couldn't let it get to me. I buried my emotions as much as possible, because if I'm nothing to Chris, or to the other soldiers, I'm nothing to anyone.

The first time I killed a person, it felt just as bad as taking those lives just now did. 

It was a young kid, no older than sixteen. He had a limp from being caught in an accident as a kid and a shy face that he wore in front of everyone. He'd come here begging for hospitality, only for us to realise later that we wasn't who he said he was.

I was the one who wanted to take him in and take care of him. I remember being scolded harsh.y by Chris. "It's on your ass. You're the one that couldn't look the other way and leave him out there on the road." His face was red and his tone made me shiver, and all I could do was stand there and wait.

"You're going to fix your mess, Lester." He ordered, pointing a finger. "Kill him if you want to see another day behind these walls!"

The threat of exile. He knows my weaknesses, especially the one about not becoming my mother. I nod.

I couldn't kill a sixteen-year-old boy, could I?

Long story short, it everything I had to build up that strength. To trick him into following me, to throw him against a wall and pull that trigger with tears in my eyes. Every day I question if that was even strength, or if it was weakness.

These days, I can't tell the difference. Maybe that's why I still do this, to find those answers. 

The night dragged on slowly, uneventfully. It had gotten to the point to where if I checked my watch it would only hurt my head even more. I just decided that there's absolutely no way anyone could be out here, and that it wouldn't hurt to lie down for a bit. If I hide in on the secret path, what are the chances of being found anyways?

My mind was a right mess, but somehow, I found a balance. When I closed my eyes the darkness seemed to be less painful than the guilt. 

~~~

I woke to a pale sky of foggy yellow, only having grown more cloudy overnight. The sunrise, never anything spectacular. Nothing is, really. Not anymore. The end of the world destroys everything, even the beauty of nature. 

Brushing a few leaves from my sleeve, I quickly realize how long I'd slept. I needed to head back to camp immediately.

It wasn't much of a camp anymore.  All it really was is my truck, the one every soldier has, and the small fire which probably is a bunch of wood and ash now.

I couldn't even look at that fire before, not after seeing that explosion. I may never be able to repress what I've done. 

I was running now, trying to be as silent as I can be while rushing at the same time.  The chances of a skilled person passing by my camp and just happening to steal a vehicle by hot wire was very slim, but my anxiety told me otherwise. That's another reason why I probably shouldn't br a soldier, along with my emotions, my lack of physical strength and coordination, and my clumsiness. I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for the extensive training I had to go through.

Back when I did that, I had a purpose. That purpose has faded over the years, a screen that's grown staticky, a picture that's gone hazy. 

Now I can't think about that, because the only thing on my mind when I reach the camp, is that it's quite obvious someone has been here. By a trained eye, I can tell someone has rummaged through my things, but they haven't taken anything. The tarp covering the water is misplaced, and so are some of the pieces of wood. It seems a person tried to take shelter here, because if they wanted to steal anything they would have.

As if on cue, footsteps begin to sound in the distance. I silently hide in the bushes, waiting for the suspect to approach, and as I assume, they immediately head for the truck, at first going to open it, but stopping when they hear me coming closer. 

I can tell this person is scared and confused, but that doesn't stop me from refusing to let my guard down. I do what I've been trained to do.

I draw my gun and pin him against the door, feeling him shivering under my grip as I lift the weapon to his chin.

He stares at me, to stunned to sat anything. I take the moment to really get a good look at him, seeing the burns and scars on his face, even a bruise or two. there's a small wound in his head covered in dried blood and he seems dehydrated and starved. He's most definitely a survivor.

Sweat drips from his dirt infested curls to my fingertips. He gulps, trying to look away when I bring his face back in curiosity.

"Who are you?'' I demand, shoving all my weight into him to prevent him for escaping.

No response, just a blank stare.

"Answer me." I insist.

"I-I'm, I" He stammers in fear, unaware to the guilt I'm swallowing from making him more scared than he already is. I may have been angry at myself, at the world, and just needed to let it out, but certainly not with him. Bu how could I trust anyone?

He goes quiet again, unsure of what to say. "What's your deal, man?" I ask a little more softly this time, trying to come off as less of a threat. By the look in his eyes, I know he knows I wont put a bullet in him. Not today, I won't. At first all I see is confusion, but then a different expression appears, as if he's had a profound realisation.

And based on what he tells me next, he definitely has. 

"I, I don't know." He gets out, letting out a breath he'd been holding in.

"What do you mean you don't know?" I question, puzzled. "Do you not have a name?"

 _"Dan._  "My name's Dan." He quickly corrects himself.

The way he's said it, it's like he'd forgotten his own name.

"You seem unsure, mate." I note, astonished. Could it really be possible that this kid has no memories?

If he's a survivor. absolutely. I let go, not wanting to cause him anymore harm than I already have. Because in reality. _I_  put those scars on his face, and in his mind. 

"I'm not sure about anything, really." He admits  "I have no memory of anything."

"Anything at all?" I push.

"I'm serious. Nothing."

I take a step away.

"Where did you come from?" 

"All I remember is waking up in a destroyed town." He explains  "I found this up here and rested because it was the only thing I could find. I don't where I am or where I'm from or how I even ended up here."

Just hearing this make the aching worse. I've basically taken his life away, and could that ever be forgiven. He needs answers and I'm sure I wont be the person he wants them from.

But he has no one else, so I  have no choice here.

 "ahh" I get out, nodding my head.

"Seems you have amnesia." I tell him.  "It would make sense if you were caught in that attack."

I wince, unable to take back the fact that I mentioned the attack. I can't possibly put this in any way that's not horrible, can I? I destroyed his home, and his memories. 

"Attack?" He wonders. "What the hell happened here?"

I can't say anything else other than the truth. He deserves that much.

"I'll tell you what, kid." I sigh  "You have nowhere to go, and you're most likely the only survivor from that town. I just came from there and I couldn't find anyone else. I'll tell you what's going on and take you back to my town, and we can take care of you until you get your memory back, cool?"

I'm sure Chris will allow it, if he knew of the amnesia. He's just a scared kid, but even if we weren't what harm can someone with amnesia do anyways? I feel a sort of obligation to this kid, the same one I felt to the one I killed. It was dangerous then, and it's still dangerous now, but I wont let him be accused of anything other than being lost and afraid.

Maybe this, this can be something I'll finally do right. 

"Wait." . "What's your name?" He asks me as we're getting in the truck.

How do I introduce my self? Do I start with my title, or are we on a first name basis here? I just go with what seems right, and what's right is my name. It's easier that way.

"Phil." I breathe, gluing ,y eyes to the dusty road.

I don't know where this decision will lead me, that's two already I have to deal with. No matter what happened, I care about this kid, more than he understands right now. It might be cruel to want to help him out of my own guilt, but even if he did know that it wouldn't make a difference, I don't think. 

I'm glad Ollie gave in and diminished that blast range, because that's how he's here. I'm not sure how many innocent people we were able to save, but just seeing one was still enough. Maybe I don't have to chose between my job and my morals after all, because I'm staring at the face of a survivor, all while our mission was still successful.

I'm glad he's here and alive, even if he's just another name and another face. He's a second chance for me to make things right. For the first time since I lost my family, since that kid I killed, since meeting Ollie, I feel something else to live for, another purpose.

Because one thing's for sure, I'll probably never live to see the end of the war.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr @lemonheadlester


	3. safe haven

**Dan**

Something didn't feel right. Maybe it was the massive headache, or my grumbling stomach, but there was more. I couldn't put my finger on it. That being said, I couldn't really put my finger on a lot of things right now.

Maybe I'm jut paranoid, but judging by the way I've been reacting to thighs so far, that just doesn't fit my character. There's something that's just not right, but even so, there's no way I could trust any kind of instinct I have, especially since I have no idea where it's coming from. How can I trust anything, really?

Hopefully I'll find those answers soon.

I figured if this Phil guy was nice enough to help me out, we wasn't planning on killing me. Otherwise, he would've done it on the spot. His character doesn't radiate a merciless energy.

In a few minutes, we were on the way back to his 'town' in silence, only the whirring of his engine to listen to. The air was refreshing now, and I was almost too tired to ask questions.

"So do remember anything besides your name, kid?" I hear Phil asking me.

I whip my head around, facing him in shock. Of course I don't, isn't that how amnesia works? It's a weird thing. The way I've remembered all basis knowledge without having a clue about my personal life is beyond me.

"N-no." I mutter "I really don't."

"You were in an explosion, for one. Does the name 'Sundale' ring a bell?"

I shake my head.

"That's the name of that town. Since you're from there I guess you'll remember eventually." He explains, refusing to make eyes contact. I can tell something is wrong, the way he's holding back. I can't help but feel left out of the loop. What is but he's hesitating to say?

"Uh, you outta know something." He mumbles, shifting his hold on the wheel and flickering his eyes regrettably.

"The destruction of your town. It, it was my fault."

My heart nearly stutters to a stop.

The destruction.  _The destruction._

"Wha-what?"

"You deserve to know why." He continues, eyes scrunching up to betray his tears. "I almost killed you."

A part of me is a astonished, but somewhere deep in my lost memories, I can find the sympathy. Somehow, everything he's saying makes sense.

The uniform, the gun, the regret. It all fell into place.

"You didn't have a choice did you?" I realise.

Phil slams on the breaks, causing me to jump with my hands braced against the sides of the leather seats burning into my skin. My body's momentum jerks forward from the sudden stop.

Phil turns to face me with a look of confusion and anger.

"Now how on earth would you know that?" He snarls, glaring at me.

I had a feeling it wasn't something I should've mentioned, but he's the who brought this up. Maybe he doesn't want me to recognise it, or maybe I'm wrong.

I don't fear for my life when he reacts this way, why would I? He doesn't want me dead, I don't think. I don't care to wonder why I would want to understand him rather than think about myself. Am I really this confident of a person?

He sighs and breaks his stare, closing his eyes and starting to drive again. "You're right, I think." He says.

"To answer your question, you just don't seem like the kind of person who kills people in cold blood." I tell him.

He doesn't look at me.

"If you were, I wouldn't be here." I explain. "I'd be dead. You certainly wouldn't be feeling that much guilt if you wanted this to happen."

That's when I fully get his attention.

"How do you know that?" He wonders.

It's not just a question he has, but a question  _I_ have. Is it really normal to notice these things?

"I'm not sure." I admit. "I just know. I can see it in your eyes."

I instantly regret saying that.

_'Way to sound like the creepiest person alive, idiot.'_

Phil doesn't say another word. He seems to understand what I mean, but remains unresponsive. I don't blame him, I'm probably being the most invasive person ever. I just didn't want him to feel any guilt, because I can tell he's a good person. It's like a sixth sense, it seems. I just know.

Still neither of us say anything else. Maybe silence is best for now.

It stays that way for the rest of the ride to his town, but something tells me that's not a bad thing.

~~~

About an hour later, we've made it to the bottom of the mountain. The area is less like a desert and it's more flat, but it has that same plain, dehydrated look to it.

The lack of elevation is a relief, but the surroundings I am greeted with on the other side of the dusty window are not.

Everything is as dull as ever, but that's not all. Even down here, the air is thin and barely breathable. Passing by pedestrians, I notice more often than not they're wearing masks, the ones doctors wear, or the ones you wear when you're sick. I can't see two feet in front of us, unlike on the mountain, it's like we're in the middle of a tornado down here. 

"What're the masks for." I wonder out loud, breaking the long silent period between Phil and I.

"Oh, right." He realises. "You're from an elevated town, that's probably very strange to you. Up on the mountain the air is actually less contaminated, so you wouldn't need 'em. Down here, well, as you can see that's not the case." He explains as we both avoid eye contact with people passing by. We exchange a remorseful look.

"You'll remember soon enough, kid." He huffs. "But, to put it simply, the world ended a long time ago."

I freeze.  _What the hell._

"No one really knows anything about what happened. We have no trace of any history before the war. The remaining survivors never spoke of it." He rambles. "Whatever happened, it was bad. We tried to rebuild, but things just keep going more and more downhill."

"You know this is all we get, and it's all we're ever going to get. No one will ever make peace, ever. Towns will never come together and try to fix things because they can never agree on how."

He shifts uncomfortably. 

"I remember the fight between our town and Maricatia broke out after our old chief decided to send soldiers into the nearest destroyed city, and everyone knows that if you go into the cities you never make it back alive."

"Maricatia Disagreed, and their leader sent some spies to assassinate the chief, which worked. we've been at war ever since." He finished, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Maricatia, that sounds familiar." I think out loud, straining my mind to find any lost information about this town.

"M'not surprised." Phil shrugs. "everyone's heard of them, and jesus christ Sundale is, was smack dab right in between us and them. It's always been a god damn warzone. yet you all never engaged."

"You're a soldier, right?" I ask, watching his fingers twitch at the word.

"Yes, yes I am." He mutters quickly, sighing afterward. "Can't say I'm proud of it, but I am."

"Do you not have a choice?" I push, quickly regretting doing so when he turns and snaps.

"What?" He snaps.

"I'm just saying you seemed uncomfortable when you said you were a shoulder. You're avoiding eye contact and tapping your fingers nervously. You aren't proud of it, and you make it more obvious than you think-"

"Well you're rather blunt aren't you?" He cuts me off, rolling his eyes. "Who did I pick up off the side of the road, fucking sherlock!?" 

His raised voice doesn't stop me. 

"I don't know, I just know what I can see."

"Look, kid," He cuts in sharply. "I get you have a lot of questions, but for god's sake there are some things I'd rather not discuss."

"Right, sorry." I whisper, facing away from him. It's not that I'm scared of him, but I do hate thew idea of upsetting him, somehow. In other words, I care about a complete stranger. 

That's the thing, he doesn't feel like a stranger. Maybe I didn't know him in my life, but I sure as hell want to know him now. I already feel like I can relate to him in some way. Something about him just feels so, familiar. 

I can't waste time getting caught up in the feelings of this person. Yeah, he's helping me, but I can't stay here, or anywhere. I have to get my memory back as soon as possible. Something tells me this isn't the kind of place I want to be clueless in.

Phil just slows the truck to a stop behind a closed gate. I'm expecting him to either get out to open it or roll down the window to get someone else to do it, but there's no one out there. He just punches a few numbers into a device attached to the visor, then there's a loud buzzing noise as the metal gate slides open automatically.

Phil then continues to drive into the secured area, which isn't the most welcoming thing. I shiver down in the seat, and Phil notices.

"Don't worry, Kid." He sighs. "This is where we leave the army vehicles, it's not like I can take this thing home.

"Oh, uh," I stutter. "Yeah. Of course. I don't know what I was expecting."

Phil laughs at this, chuckling as he pulls th key out, bringing the engine to a halt. He then rumages through his bag as if making sure he's not missing anything, then he throws it over his shoulder.

He reaches to the back and opens the compartment behind the seat, retrieving a blue and grey patterned bandana. Be brushes a bit of dust off before handing it to me.

"Wear this over your face." He instructs me. "There's no way in a hell a mountain kid like yourself will breathe this air without getting sick."

I nod without question, securing it around my nose and mouth before opening the door and getting out. I follow Phil as he drags a crate out of the back of the truck and hauls it to a shelf, leaving it there. I stay close behind him the entire time as he leads me out of the garage and back to the gate.

"Just hop over the fence." Phil calls, already halfway up. I take a step back.

"Wait, really?" I question, speaking loudly so my words can travel through the cloth over my face.

"Yeah, don't sweat it. It's not as high as you think."

I still hesitate.

"It's safe, if your wondering." He assures me.

"Aren't fences places like this supposed to be lined with barbed wire to keep people out?" I wonder, eyeing the metal carefully.

Phil laughs, now on the other side at the top. "Not this one. We don't care about intruders, we just don't want our vehicles stolen." He explains.

I decide to stop questioning and just follow him. If he can do it, I can do it too.

I cling to the fence, steadily making my way up and realising that Phil was right, it's actually pretty simple.   
  
"Not gonna lie, kid." Phil calls down to me. "You're stronger than I thought you'd be."

"Wait 'til you see my abs." I joke, drawing a laugh from the other side of the fence. 

"Are you seriously that fit?" he wonders, genuinely curious.

"I'm actually not sure." 

I place a hand over my diaphragm. "Nope. I guess we can both be disappointed."

I don't know why the chuckle I hear from Phil brings a smile to my face at such ease, but it does. I forget I'm in a deadly situation, and all of this starts to feel natural, like I'm talking to someone I can trust, someone who will help me. This just feels normal.

Phil, he feels like a friend, like he's someone I've known for a long time. But, how, how can that be possible>? Do I trust people easily? I wish I had explanations for at least half the things I do, whereas Phil, It's like I can see right through him. I'm sure he doesn't appreciate that, but I can't help it.

For some reason, I want to know him more than I want to know myself.

Once we're both on the other side of the fence, I follow him to the side of the dirt road, walking along the pavement as we pass by people who obviously recognise Phil as a soldier, eyes widening and steps faltering. Some wear masks, some don't.

The area from what I can see is just another village, small and intimate, but the further we travel I start to see more buildings. I see children and parents, I see homes and shops, I even begin to notice how much bigger everything starts to seem, and how I can start to see farther down the street as we continue into the town. The air begin to clear and the amount of misery I see decreases, and now I only see people more fortunate, people who are lucky enough to live in an area where they don't have to wear masks or cower away from soldiers, where they don't have to watch their kids play in fear of them being swept away or killed. 

The behaviour changed so slowly, some could miss it. I didn't. I could see perfectly, the way this town functions.

"Not to be that person, but the difference between the people on the outskirts and the people here is quite drastic." I comment, waiting to see how Phil explains this one.

He sighs. "I know. The poor don't get enough support from the chief. Then again, he has a lot on his plate. Sadly, this is the situation in most towns."

"Why is there only one person in charge of everything?" I inquire, intrigued by this strange system.

"That's they way it's always been done. At least in the larger towns, that is. Towns like Sundale actually had no form of government, they just kind of all kept to themselves." He explains.

As he finishes his sentence, we approach a small building, a look a like to the many others surrounding it, the brick apartment buildings difficult to tell apart. Each one is three stories, the top two floors equipped with small balconies, towels and clothing lines emerging from some of them, hanging across the way to the building across the street. 

I head towards the door but Phil shakes his head and point to the ladder attached to the wall.

"Is that the only way up?" I wonder, staring up.

"Yeah, I'm on the third floor." He confirms. "The balconies are essentially also front doors."

I climb up after him, pulling myself over the railing and staring back down and taking in the view. It's not much different, but everything is much clearer from this height. 

"Come on inside, it's a bit cooler in the shade." I hear Phil from behind me, who's gesturing for me to follow.

The evening has already come and the grey colour of the sky is starting to darken. A bit of a wind picks up and I have to shield my eyes from the dust that almost blows into my eyes. 

"Hm, that's weird." Phil mumbles. "We never get breezes. You good?"

I nod, immediately making my way inside so that Phil can close the door. 

"Wait a minute." he freezes, staring out and down the road of endless apartment buildings. 

"What is it-"

"Shush." He hushes me, concentrating on something in the distance. I wait as his eyes widen.

"Shit, stay inside, Dan." He orders, grabbing the single towel hanging over the railing, closing the door behind him and locking it.

He used my real name instead of calling me 'kid', so something serious is happening. 

"What is it?" I try for answers again. "What the hell is going on?"

"There's a dust storm coming. They're rare, but when they come they're pretty bad." He informs me, sliding two white wardrobe doors open and pulling out a wooden board and a box, seemingly full of nails, and a hammer. 

He makes his way back over to the one window in the entire flat, quickly boarding it up, like it was a practiced drill. Soon after, an alarm starts blaring. 

"It'll pass soon." He tells me. "Let's just get you cleaned up."

I remember that I'm still covered in dirt and sweat, and possibly am still bleeding in some places. I scrape some dried blood from my forehead, scratching my scalp uncomfortably as I follow Phil to the bathroom. 

He directs me to the single marble vanity, helping me up as I sit down and let him examine my arms, then my face, then my legs.

"Nothing serious." He mutters. "Just hang tight."

He's soothing to say the least. His hands are warm and soft against my bruised skin, and his word are kind and calm against a reassuring, deep toned voice. I can just close my eyes and listen to the sound of the wind escalating outside, and I trust him to take care of me. 

He starts by soaking and wringing a washcloth before dabbing it lightly across my forehead, cleaning the blood there. He then does the same with the cuts on my arms and the scrapes on my knees, washing off of the faded blue cloth every time before returning it to the next area.

"You don't have any fresh wounds." He informs me, letting me relax into the careful touch of his hand to the back of my head. 

"M'tired." I mumble, fluttering my eyes closed and open again.

"I can bloody imagine." He sighs. "Don't worry, I won't take too long. I just need to make sure I've got everything here."

It's weird. One moment he's closed off and frustrated, and the next he's completely fine. I could care less as he searches my head for any more injuries, carding his fingers gently, yet quickly through my greasy hair. He chuckles when I accidentally let out a sigh. 

"Sorry." I whisper, tensing when his index runs over the split skin just beside my hairline. 

"Don't apologise." He assures me, grabbing a brown bottle and a cotton ball from the medicine cabinet. "Don't worry, I just need to clean the wound in your head. It's not deep and this shouldn't hurt at all, but let me know if it does." He walks me through everything he's about to do carefully, collectively.

"Thanks you." I breathe, settling my head against the mirror. The sound of rushing wind fills my ears, alarming me.

"Hey, it's okay." Phil places a hand on my shoulder as I jump. "It's just a storm." 

That's the moment when the dust begins to pound against the windows and doors of the building, and I can hear it stinging the metal railings and ladders. I'm more concerned with the mysterious substance that the cotton is being drenched with, less relaxed now.

"It's just peroxide." Phil explains. "It'll help stop this from getting infected, but I don't need to do anything else to it. It'll heal on it's own."

He's right about it not stinging. After he's done, he throws the now bloody swab in the bin and leaves the room for a few seconds, returning with a pile of clothes. 

"This is just an old tee shirt of mine and some jeans that will hopefully fit you. Use the shower for as long as you'd like."

I nod as he leaves me to my own. I place the pile where I had just been sitting, reaching my aching arms above my head to discard the torn , battered, thin button up long sleeve I'd been wear previously. What the hell was I thinking when I decided to put that on in this heat?

The shower I get ends up lasting a rather short amount of time. The running water drowns out the sound of the rushing wind, and when I wash my hair I can see the rest of the damage clearly. 

My skin is littered, to put it simply. Part of me is glad I can't remember, because it wouldn't be such a pleasant thing to think about. I don't have to worry about any of it not healing, I got lucky. 

When I turn the water off I notice something on my forearm. At first it was just a scab, but now with the dirt washed away I can see it more clearly.

It's quite literally, a hole in my harm.

I run my thumb over it. There could so be many possible explanations for this. Flying shrapnel, maybe I fell on a nail, but it seems to intricate, too deliberate. 

Or maybe I'm just tired and I need to stop overthinking everything. 

When I step back out to where Phil is, no longer in uniform, rummaging through a cupboard I hear the storm has died down quite a lot, and the howling wind is now just a quiet whistle. 

"Feel better?" He asks me without even turning around. 

"Much better." I respond. "Thank you, again."

"No need to thank me. It's the least I could do."

"What do you have there?"

He holds out a box.

"Just some crackers. Want any?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm more tired than hungry, but thanks."

"Well then, I only have one bed so you can have it. I'll sleep on the couch, alright?"

He shows me to his room, handing me a glass of water and letting me know to wake him up if I need anything. I thank him.

When he's gone I take the chance to look around out of curiosity. There isn't much to see, it's about as simple as a room could get. Nothing in his nightstand drawer strikes my interest as I rummage through it, it's just note pads, pens and other miscellaneous items. His c=wardrobe is nothing other than what I expected. His clothes are just various button up tops with the odd tee, and stacks of jeans. On one side, the uniform jacket he'd just been wearing was hanging. It was thin, hung neatly with the tiny silver sash detached an draped over the right shoulder. I feel the material between my fingers, imagining what it must be like to be something important every day, to be him. 

I finally let my exhaustion win over, collapsing on the bed and closing my eyes, something still lurking in the back of my mind.

Why the hell is everything about Phil comforting. I mean, I just met the guy. Somehow the way he had taken care of me so carefully and gently, it was the more peaceful I had felt since I came to. Maybe it's just because he's the only person I've spoken to, or remember speaking to, but there's just something about him. 

Maybe it was how easily we had laughed together, or how he'd gone so out of his way to care for me. For some reason, he cares about some random kid from the small irrelevant town of Sundale apparently. 

I'm not complaining. I will admit, he's pretty nice to be around. 

Something tells me he's not like the other soldiers. He's different. He's special. He is someone who I can stick with and trust. I still can't understand why, but the person who allegedly nearly killed me makes me feel safe. 

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr @lemonheadlester


	4. where credit isn't due

**Phil**

Sleeping on the couch wasn't the best experience for me. Not only was it old, uncomfortable, and worn down, but it didn't help that the last time I gave someone my room and slept here was that young spy.

I never even got his name, yet I cared about him so much at the time. Dan's surely different, his town never engaged in war. He doesn't even remember anything to begin with. On top of all of that, he just seems to be a good person.

He's very clever for someone who can only remember their name, I'll give him that. He didn't hold back when it came to over-analyzing everything about me. I hated to admit that he was right too.

I do hate what I do. I do hate killing, being a solider, having a title where the naive worship me and the less fortunate fear me. I hate all of it, so what's holding me back?

The fear of failure. I'm sure Dan'd see that one without even having to ask. He probably already knows why I still wear that uniform. I don't give myself any other choice. 

What really goes to show with Dan is that the people of Sundale had more to offer than we ever gave them credit for. Which doesn't help with the guilt at all. In fact, I have to groan in annoyance to cover up the ears that threaten to fall. 

All of this, and I still have to face Chris and explain to him how we managed to take out an entire town of people in one day, well, almost an entire town. He would lose his shit if he found out about Dan, surely.

When I go to check on Dan to hopefully clear my head, he's asleep on my bed, but it's nowhere near peaceful. No, he's mumbling some incoherent words and his fingers are twitching. He's having a nightmare. 

I don't stop to think about boundaries or perhaps, not letting myself care too much. I just move towards him and swiftly take his hand, rubbing my thumb over his trembling fingers in hopes that it will maybe calm him down. 

To my relief, he does settle down, but only to open his eyes two seconds later and catch me holding his hand without context. 

My eyes widen as I drop his fingers, heat growing on my cheeks as I search my mind for any kind of explanation to cover my actions up. I inevitably stutter out random sounds, waiting for him to say something first.

"Phil, what are you doing?" h wonders, innocence and question in his voice.

"I-uh, nothing." I stammer. "You were having a nightmare, I was just-" 

"Was I?" He interrupts me groggily. "I didn't realise. Sorry if I woke you."

I was about to correct him and tell him that he didn't, but I wasn't about to make myself seem more weird than I already have. Why did I have the urge to check on him in the first place? I don't even remember. 

I excuse myself after telling him to help himself to any food and dart straight for the bathroom, locking the door behind me. 

"Why am I so damn awkward?" I complain to myself as I wash my face in the sink. "You had  _one_ job Phil.

Why am I so concerned about what he think of me anyways? It's not like I'm supposed to care about him at all, but maybe I care just a little too much.

I decide when I finish drying my face off to forget about it. If he does, so will I.

I find him again, still in my room. This time, he's staring at something. My heart stops when I realise what it is. 

"Don't touch that!" I scold, snatching the dusty framed photograph from him and placing it back in my drawer. "Why the hell are you going through my stuff anyways?"

He just stares at me wide eyed, obviously knowing what I was trying to hide.

"Nevermind, I can understand you're curious, just, don't do it again, Okay" I mumble. "I'm not a serial killer, if that's what you're wondering."

I turn to leave, but I can still hear the sarcastic remark muffled from behind me. 

"You made that  _so_  clear when you held me at gunpoint."

He's mocking me, making the blood at my fingertips boil. He doesn't thin k I heard, but I most definitely did, and I won't let it slide. My inner soldier is rising and I can't feel anything but anger.

Without thinking, I turn abruptly and yank his arm back. he's shaking but I don't care because I'm not myself in this moment. 

"Don't you  _dare_." I growl, "question the things I do _ever_ again." 

Dan squirms so get away but I hold him in place. There's a tightness in my chest where the anger is present, a scream bottled up in my throat cause every word that leave my mouth to be low and painful. I guess we both feel trapped in this moment.

My mind catches up with my body and I quickly let Dan go, horrified with myself. 

"I-I'm sorry." I stutter uselessly. It's all I can say before I run back into the bathroom, locking the door. 

_Soldiers don't cry_ I hear faintly, the voice of Chris, the way he mocked me. I feel tears and I'm frustrated with myself all over again. 

I bury my warm face in my hands, my mind infected with anger, embarrassment, regret, and a few other nasty emotions. I just cry, and I don't stop. 

After about fifteen minutes of sitting on the floor and stifling every sob as best I can to avoid letting Dan hear me in such a weak state, I hear a tiny knock at the door.

"Phil?" I hear his muffled voice. I panic, jumping up and seeing my face in the mirror, red and splotched. 

"Hey." His voice comes again. "I understand if you don't want to talk but I'd rather not pee outside or in one of your houseplants. Seriously, there are so many in here. What the hell?

I laugh, which surprises me. I swiftly wash my face before opening the door to see him there, a sad smile on his lips.

"I'll leave you alone." He assures me. "But for what it's worth, I'm sorry too."

I mile and nod, letting him know that it's okay. I'll have to talk to him about this later, and that's what scares me the most. I don't talk to people about my feelings, it's a sign of weakness.

I hang my head low and make my way past him and to the lounge where the window is still boarded. The last time we had a storm was months ago, and it left many people dead. Hopefully we were more prepared this time.

I carefully unscrew each nail and place them in the jar, then setting them to the side as I remove the wood. What I see is a calamity. 

Dust submerges the roads between the apartments, clothing lines ripped apart and covered in dirt. a few roofs had flown off of the homes and broke apart, some windows shattered from flying debris. There must have been a lot of people who didn't make it home. If they weren't anywhere near a shelter, then they're most likely dead. 

I never have to wear masks, but I grab a bandana and wrap it around my nose and mouth just in case. There's still so much dust in the air. It's going to take a while to settle. 

I carefully open the door and step outside. I can't even see the sky anymore. Everything is shrouded in a dusty cloud. It's hard to breathe through the fabric but it doesn't really phase me. What does have my attention, is what I see when I look at the bottom of the railing to our building.

Two people, face down, dead. 

I know them, they lived on the second floor in the next building over. They must have been trying to get back, and didn't make it in time.

My heart aches for them. They were always so nice to me, despite me not being the friendly type. 

As Chris would say it's weak to let anyone's death hold you back. I don't care in this moment. They didn't deserve this.

I climb up and over the rail, making my way down the ladder slowly. I can see a few more bodies in the distance, probably even more will appear when the air clears and I'm able to see farther. 

I step over my neighbours who are now face down in the ground. I anticipate to see even more people, even more damage. This is worst than the last time. Standing in the middle of the street, I look back down. 

The damage is nothing that can't be fixed, but the lives lost. And the fact that it all happened right under my nose, when I could have done something to help and instead just stayed inside like a coward. That's weak. It's something that will stay with me forever.

"It's okay to cry, you know." I hear someone calling to me. 

I turn around to see Dan leaning against the raining and staring at me. 

"That's none of your business." I call back as I walk in his direction, ready to climb back up and forget any of this even happened. He doesn't know what it's like to be a soldier, he has no right to tell me that.

"Wait, Phil-" I tries to stop me but I pull my arm away, glaring at him. 

"No. There's nothing to discuss. We both apologised so let's just move on."

"But I-" 

"I said no." I insist. "Come back inside. It's dangerous for you to be out here without a mask on anyways."

He complies and sighs, ready to follow me back up. That is until I hear an engine in the distance. 

When the vehicle comes into view I know exactly who it is.

"Dan go inside." I instruct. "Now."

Before he can even move, the truck stops right in front of us and the person in the passenger seat jumps out with a suspicious look on his face.

Chris. 

"I think  _Dan_  should stay here." He sneers, pushing me away from the railing and approaching Dan threateningly. Dan has a terrified expression as Chris reaches for his arm and pulls him away from the ladder.

"Stop!" I protest, frozen in place. It's not like I can do anything against him, I just have to let him do what he wants. 

"Care to explain then? Where'd he come from?" He huffs, letting go of Dan's arm and pushing him towards me. I make sure to stand in front of him protectively. 

_Think quickly, think quickly._

"He's from here." I say smoothly. "His home was destroyed in the storm so he'll be staying with me."

Chris raises an eyebrow in disapproval, scoffing. "Shelters exits for this very reason, mate. He should go there if he doesn't have a place to stay."

"He does." I quickly correct him. "Here."

"Remember what I said about getting attached to people, Philip?" He takes a step towards me. I nearly stop breathing, my throat dry.

"It's weak." I whisper, loud enough to just barely be heard through the cloth on my face. He stops for a seconds, his eyes finding their way from me to Dan. He frowns.

"Then what do you call this!?" He bellows, causing me to jump back.

He can see I'm shivering. He knows I'm afraid of him.

"He- I'm not attached to him." I stutter. "He's just a friend and I'm helping him out." 

A friend. He's a friend. Did I really just say that?

"Fine then." Chris gives in. "I guess we should move on to the reason I'm here. This wasn't juts a spontaneous visit."

He's back to his normal calm self, just like that. 

"We need to talk about Sundale. Tell me what happened. You killed the maricat, yeah?"

I nod. "Yes, I- we did. Destroyed the town in the process. Hundreds of people died alongside one spy."

"It was a necessary sacrifice." Chris tells me as he places a hand on my shoulder. The way he says it makes me sick.

"One of Maricatia's most treasured spies is dead and out of our hair. This is cause for celebration!" He continues.

I shake my head. "Celebration!? We just had a storm, and an entire town is dead. How is that-"

"Now now, Philip." He cuts me off. "It wasn't my decision. Your fellow soldiers agree, and so do the majority of Maricopian citizens. The whole town is throwing a party in your honour next week. Your presence is expected and mandatory."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. Is he serious?

"I can't take the credit." I argue. "It was a team effort to take him down, you can't just exclude-"

"You're the one who pulled the trigger, yes?" He cuts me off again. I can only nod, disgusted with myself.

"I'll see you there, then." He concludes, climbing back into the truck. He leaves me there next to Dan, speechless.

I turn to face Dan, his eyes wide and still. I take his hand. 

"Come on." I gesture to the ladder. "Let's go inside, then we can talk."

He follows me up in silence and I don't dare make eye contact with him. So much just happened and he deserves an explanation at this point. 

I rip the bandana off of my face once we're inside, gripping it tightly. My back is to Dan when he closes the door behind us, breathing in relief.

"You're scared of him." He says simply. "I didn't think you were scared of anyone. Was that the chief?"

"Yeah." I swallow. "That's Chris."

"I can see why you wouldn't want to talk to me then." He observes, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder and sitting me down next to him on the sofa. "He's manipulating the way you think about yourself for god's sake."

At first I want to tell him that he's wrong and that Chris means well, or that he doesn't know what he's talking about, but I can't deny the fact that he's right. 

"I know." I admit hesitantly before the tears come.

I'm half expecting laughter or disapproval from Dan when he sees me like this. Instead, all I get are his arms slowly wrapping around me, hugging me. 

I don't mean to be caught so off guard, but it hits me then I haven't been hugged in a long time. In fact the last time I ever hugged anyone was before I lost my family. Before they left me, rather.

Nonetheless, I find it easy to sink into the feeling and bury my head in Dan's shoulder. I missed having someone I can trust.

"I think, I think I can talk to you, Dan." I sniff, lifting my head and making eye contact with him for the first time, seeing the soft kindness there. 

"Okay." He whispers. I exhale with a shiver. I can tell him.

"That picture you had earlier," I start. "That was my mother and my brother."

"I could tell." He smiles. "they look like you. Especially your brother."

"What happened?" He tries, his voice lower, serious.

I look up at the ceiling. I've never told this to anyone. Ever.

"They left me. They ran away, and they're probably dead too." 

I'm trying not to cry, but it's hard. The last time I ever spoke of them was the day they left.

"Why'd they leave." He asks in a calm voice, taking one of my hands impulsively. He nearly pulls back after seeing What he's done, but he doesn't. He just wraps his fingers around mine. He's reminding me it's okay and I can tell him.

"I'm a killer." I cry. "They wanted nothing to do with me anymore. After I became a soldier they just packed their bags and left."

I lean into the sofa cushion, my arm trapped under my weight. I told myself I wouldn't cry, but hear I am, bawling my eyes out to someone I just met yesterday.

"You miss them?" Dan wonders, his tone indicating he already knows the answer. There's no lying to him, really. I nod in confirmation.

"Look at me." He whispers, lifting my chin slightly with his fingers and wiping a few tears away from my cheeks. He brushes the hair away from my eyes, his other hand still holding mine. "That's okay. You're letting people tell you that being human is weak. Having empathy, wanting to save lives help others, have emotions. Those are all things that you should be allowed to have."

"I know, it's just, no everyone believes that Dan. I'll end up like my family if I go against anything Chris says." I explain. "He's threatened to exile me before."

"Would he actually do it?"

"Maybe. I guess? I don't know." I say indecisively. "He's so unpredictable."

"From what I've seen you're one of the best soldiers he's got. He's probably just saying that to keep you in line." He suggests, rubbing my shoulder. "Maybe you think you need to prove yourself, or you have to be perfect, but I think having emotions makes you the exact opposite of weak. You realise Chris basically has a bunch of robots running this town, right?"

I nod. "Yeah, you're right."

We fall into an understanding silence. I don't even notice at first when Dan seems to be leaning closer to me, not until his head falls against my chest and he's hugging me again.

"Thank you." I squeak, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier."

"Don't be." He whispers. "It's all good." 

"It's not. It was unwarranted. It was-"

"Do me a favour and shut up." He quips, poking my face. "You were scared I'd tell you what everyone else has. The way you feel is perfectly acceptable."

"What should I do?" I ask him. "I mean, I have to show up to that party and pretend I'm proud of what I did. I have to-"

Be someone you're not?" He finishes my thought, looking up at me.

"Yeah. I have to be someone I'm not."

"I guess that's pretty much what I've been doing for the past several years of my life isn't it?" I realise with dry laughter. I don't know why it took some kid with amnesia to help me say it out loud, but he's right. I have to change the way I think of myself sometimes.

"Dan?" My voices comes shriveled and quiet. "Will you come with me?"

He smiles. "Of course."

I don't exactly have a plan of any kind, but I do know that it's about time I stop hiding my feelings, even if it's just with Dan. Even if he's only here until his memories return, I'm suddenly grateful for him being here.   

_Caring about strangers is weak. That's how people take advantage of you._

That's how I was taken advantage of. 

_Showing your emotions will get you killed. You can't stop to feel sorry for someone._  

_Killing people is necessary to our cause._

_As a soldier serving the town of Maricopa, I pledge to sustain these values and keep these promises until the day I die._

At what cost? 

What cause?

Did I know what I was agreeing to all those years ago.

I was young and I made poor decisions, just barely out of school. 

I wasn't a soldier back then.

And I'm not a soldier now.

I am my own person. I promised to protect my town, and to take lives in the process. I want to be able to save people, not harm them. I want things to change.

"What do you want?" Dan asks me, voice hazy and tired as he rests his head on my shoulder, out hands folded in his lap.

I've always wanted the same thing, but I never thought I could do anything about it. Maybe if there's something we can do, we'll do it. I made a promise to them back then, but now it's time to promise myself something once and for all.

I breathe out, closing my eyes and letting darkness consume me. I can think clearly now.

"I want to end the war."

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr @lemonheadlester


	5. revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to @cozydnp on tumblr for being a lovely beta.

_ In a sea of precious time, they always seem to run the river dry. _

_ 05:00 _

“Sir, the Maricat has been compromised. His location in sundale has somehow been disclosed to the Maricopian soldiers.”

_ Panic. He has never panicked like this before. Not in the whole decade and a half he'd been running the most successful spy organization known to man. _

_ Never have they been compromised like this. _

_ “Get him out of there.” He orders the young, terrified spy, who's nearly in tears over this friend being in this much danger. _

_ There is a sound of static ad the connection is cut shirt and they can no longer communicate with their beloved spy. Panic spreads throughout the room like a wave, and all anyone can fi is watch and wait. _

_ But it's too late. All communication is cut off already, and there's no way any of their spies could get to him in time. _

_ Silence falls upon the room. The Maricat is going to die. _

_ As if gently paying their respects to one of their most talented spies, they all remove their hats and take a knee, nearly simultaneously. _

_ “I regret to say it, but we're losing a fine young man today.” Their leader says softly before exiting the room. _

_ Everyone's head hangs low as they follow in suit, unsure if they should say anything or if silence is the better option. _

_ After a few minutes, most everyone has left. They can't bear to be there anymore, leaving one person alone in the control room full of running satellites and the sound of static. _

_ The young spy, the closest friend, and only friend, the maricat ever had. _

_ They say spies don't cry, but really, they only cry when they're alone. Unlike the Maricopian soldiers, they like to believe they still have their sense of humanity. _

_ After everything they’ve done, this would be the worst and this day, they've never hated that damn town more. _

_ 07:00 _

_ The room remains silent. The static cut out entirely nearly half an hour ago, no one has left or entered. _

_ Finally, a door in the back opens and the person walking in is hidden in the shadows, cowering away in fear of any outbursts of anger. _

_ Ben, that's the young spy's name. He says not a word, only nodding for him to come forward.  _

_ “The entire town of Sundale has been destroyed.” He Informs him, keeping his head low. “I'm sorry.” _

_ Ben stays still, and a few seconds of awkward silence follows. That silence is broken by someone bursting through the same door and running for a random computer. _

_ Their leader, PJ, who's clearly upset, ignores everyone as he starts messing with the satellite, looking at the town of Sundale, now destroyed. _

_ “Dammit!” He screams, smalling a fist into the table, rattling the keyboard. _

_ “Who's responsible for this!?” He demands, glaring at the spy who came in before him. _

_ “M-maricopa, s-sir.” He stutters, nearly dropping the papers in his arms. _

_ “No. I want a name. Give me a name!” _

_ “The soldier, oh.” He realizes. “The leader of the team responsible is sergeant Philip Lester, sir.” _

_ “I want information on him, now!” _

_ The boy ruffles through the files he's holding until he finds what he's looking for, handing the yellow folder to PJ with trembling fingers. PJ gestures for him to read it. _

_ “Sergeant Philip Lester.” He reads while PJ paces back and forth. “Born and raised in the centre of Maricopa, twenty-five years old, been enlisted since he was eighteen, lives alone, father died from illness, mother and brother both willingly exiled, location unknown. Members of his unit include sergeant Oliver Grey, Servant Ashton Hale, Se-” _

_ “That's enough.” PJ cuts him off, dismissing him. He runs off quickly, leaving Ben alone with PJ. _

_ “Ben.” He breathes. “Get everyone in there immediately.” _

_ He has no idea what PJ is planning, but he complies, wiping the tears from his eyes and leaving to go find the other spies. _

_ 09:00 _

_ The room is full now, every single spy waiting for their leader to arrive and tell them their next mission. _

_ When he enters, the muttering fades away and everyone falls silent, watching him. He makes his way swiftly to the front of the room and clears his throat. _

_ “I understand we are all devastated about losing one if our bests spies, but we have no time to mourn.” He announces. “It's time we show Maricopa what happens when they mess with us." _

_ The response is uneven. Some are unsure while others are enthusiastic, usually the younger ones of the group. _

_ “The leader of the team who destroyed Sundale, he's the one who pulled the trigger. He's the one who killed the Maricat. we don't know how many survivors are in there still, if any, but we won't let them get away with this.” _

_ “That leader's name is Phil Lester, and we will not rest until he's dead.” _

_ ~~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr @lemonheadlester


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